


Seasons of Liz

by L0chn3ss, okinawasobas



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alcohol, Depression, Gen, Mentions of Violence, Swearing, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L0chn3ss/pseuds/L0chn3ss, https://archiveofourown.org/users/okinawasobas/pseuds/okinawasobas
Summary: (1969) Elizabeth Thompson, age 18, has left the dirty streets of Brooklyn behind in favor of the polished suburbs of Long Island. Armed with a camera and a cynical world view, she tries to make amends with herself whilst traveling her new home. The idea that she could belong in such a lavish lifestyle seems preposterous, but then again, so does landing a man on the moon. [Reverb 2017]





	Seasons of Liz

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Reverb 2017 everyone! My partner and I had so much fun writing this, and are really excited to present it to you! Check out our artist's work, I will add a link here when it's posted. Much loves to Rebornfromash and Psychadelicrose for betaing. Thanks for reading this, hope you enjoy!

**SUMMER**

* * *

 

A bead of sweat rolled down the bridge of Elizabeth Thompson’s nose, bubbling at the tip and threatening to drip off the end into her waiting lap, but she didn’t notice. She barely registered the static of the television, the whir of the fan behind her blasting cold air on her neck, or even the chatter through the open window as her sister played outside in the yard; instead, her eyes were fixated on the events unfolding on the screen before her.

 

Liz wiped sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand and blinked for what felt like the first time in days as Buzz Aldrin took his first steps on the moon, the second human being to do so. Something in the back of her head registered this as the start of some new era, a giant leap for mankind and all, but it didn’t seem all that _important_ , so instead she picked up the glass of lemonade on the end table beside her, cold beads of condensation rolling down the glass to the table below, and frowned at the television as she took a sip.

 

People weren’t _meant_ to walk on the moon, that’s why the moon was in the sky and her feet were planted on solid earth, and yet there they were, taking the first steps on the ominous grey rock in the sky.

 

(If she were more honest with herself, she’d admit that she didn’t feel like she was on very solid earth at all.)

 

She’d only been at the manor for a few days, five tops, but she was already tired of all these _people_ . The house was crawling with them; housekeepers that insisted on dusting the vanity in her new bathroom at all hours of the day, cooks offering pity snacks because they believed her “too skinny” and “malnourished,” and of course Kid himself, with that pitying smile he kept giving when he thought she wasn’t looking, more money than _God_ and an obsessive compulsive streak that left her severely on edge every time she bumped into some unnecessary piece of furniture and accidentally shifted it _just slightly too far to the left._ There were too many goddamn people in this house, and the whole thing was an anxiety attack waiting to happen.

 

The room she was in now - wood paneled walls, a threadbare couch, and the square television she was watching - had become a refuge of sorts. At least here, she thought, the anxieties would be of her own doing.

 

She turned her attention back to what was happening on the screen. Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin bounced around on the moon, talking _center of gravity_ and _body mass_ and other words she didn’t understand, and the whole thing just felt so unnecessary that she almost shut off the television right then and there. But she could hear Patty’s giggling through the open window as she skipped around the gardens with Kid, so instead she turned the volume up and took another sip of her lemonade.

 

Why was it that Patty had taken to Kid so easily? For as long as Liz could remember, it had just been the two of them, hiding out on the streets of Brooklyn, working odd jobs here and there to make sure they had enough to eat every night. Skinny, sure, but it was Liz-and-Patty, together against the world, and the hard streets of Brooklyn wouldn’t be enough to stop them. As it turned out though, a rich, pretty-boy from Long Island was.

 

Blood is thicker than water, she thought bitterly to herself, her eyes shifting again to the open window where Patty smiled brightly at her new patron.

 

Liz stood up, and shut the window with a resounding, satisfying _slam_.

 

* * *

  


Luck be with them.

They met Kid on their regular hunt for dinner, and what they got out of it was more than any of them bargained for. It started like any other story—on a dark and stormy early summer night when everyone else was safely tucked into their homes while the only people who were still out were the ones looking for trouble. Following this pattern of events, that trouble came in the form of a robbery on the street in front of the opera house.

Patty was the one who caught the shrill, poking her head out of the Burger King’s dumpster and wiggling her ears comically. She’d been tired of stale food and unhealthy options, but a beggar isn’t a chooser, Liz reminded her. This time though, rather than taking the time to sort through what was edible and not, Patty leapt from the edge and made a mad sprint eastward despite her sister’s yelling about the rain.

Liz followed, turning the corner just in time to see Patty stretching out her leg into a swift backwards kick aimed at a man’s face. He ran straight into it; his nose rammed straight into her heel and fell from the recoil. A scream of pain alerted a few people standing by under their black umbrellas, and most of them chose to scram rather than to watch. Before she could scold Patty though, Liz noticed a pink alligator skin clutch under his arm.

Call her sexist, but a luxurious handbag had no business being with a grungy person on the male spectrum.

It wasn’t Kid-- if any of you were wondering. He came later in the story after both sisters presented the purse back to its rightful owner who slowly came running after the thief was already sent away to hell. Her thick, clicking heels signaled her arrival, and Liz held in a snort at the sight of the matching fabric to the bag in Patty’s hands. That puff of laughter died instantly though when she realized that the woman’s expression was not one of gratitude, but one of disgust.

She stepped tentatively to Patty though she seemed to be holding onto whatever expensive trinkets she had stuffed in her wet fur coat closer to her body. The latter returned the bag to the woman, and rather than giving a reward or even a thank you, she snatched it away without another glance behind her.

Liz felt a little miffed; she wouldn’t have gone after the man if she didn’t foresee compensation, but Patty placed her hand comfortably into her sister’s and smiled slightly, tugging them back into the dark alleyway from where they came, unbothered.

“Let’s go, sissy,” she said.

Before they could leave though, they heard another pair of footsteps in the rain.

 

* * *

  


The sun was stinging her, and she squinted at the sky even harder through her fingers. There were kids everywhere they turned, families and friends having a jolly good time. She wondered how fake their smiles were, how no one could truly enjoy this dreadful weather and harsh conditions. The harshest of it all? The people most definitely. Liz grimaced at the proximity of the lounging couple close to her site, keeping her group’s belongings within reach and within her line of sight.

She was taking a break from strolling down the shore but there were still other things that troubled her other than the crowd. Her nose itched, and her feet hurt from the heat radiating from the sand. Patty’s insistent shrieks of joy was jabbing more at her headache somewhere to her left. The roar of waves was threatening to consume her and her sanity. How much longer until she can’t take it anymore?

Strangely enough, no one had packed an umbrella despite Liz’s assumption that they would always be over prepared. She’d been careful to not ask for things that she knew she didn’t deserve as well; extra accessories and even sunglasses were some of those items. They’d done nothing to earn it, but Patty was sporting swimming goggles around her neck and a snorkel in her hand. How the latter had easily asked for those gifts was beyond her and it made Liz uncomfortable to think about.

Kid had been sitting beside her in silence. He handed her a straw hat and she took it gingerly in her hands, tracing the edges and the woven design, playing with it and inverting the cap over and back again. He gently asked if she needed to put it on, but honestly? She didn’t want his pity, his honey covered words and his sickly-sweet gestures. She handed it back to him with a scowl, remarking that the sun wasn’t so bad. That maybe it was better for him to use it to protect his delicate skin. He shrugged it off, taking a long look at it and seemed to ponder what was wrong with it.

She knew that he didn’t deserve her harshness, but she couldn’t help it. She was angry and moody and irritable and cranky. The entire spectrum of a bad attitude was floating around her head like a cloud. Before she could apologize, Patty flounced back to their area on the beach, kicking up sand and shaking water from her hair. Liz moved away from her, tucking herself closer into a ball on her towel as Patty crossed over to Kid’s. She took the hat from his hands and roughly placed it on his head, saying something similar to what Liz had just moments before, that he should be protecting his baby skin.

But this time, Kid laughed back at her.

Liz wondered why it felt so different to watch her sister and Kid interact, because didn’t she do the same thing? She didn’t know anymore. For the rest of the day until the early fade of the evening sky, she watched as they built a sand castle close to the shore where the water met the sand, yelling when the sea washed away their work but nonetheless starting again from scratch over the broken foundation.

Kid was meticulous with his work, clearing the remains away with a couple of sweeps of his toy shovel until the ground was smooth and aligned. Patty on the other hand was their powerhouse and trucked sand to their space from random piles close to them. She gathered buckets of water and wet sand that were ready for Kid to use too. They were placed evenly surrounding them into an organized semi-circle that Liz couldn’t make sense of. In the middle of it all, Kid took off the hat and plopped it onto Patty, who readjusted it over herself and flicked her bangs back behind her ear.

Liz continued to dig a basin with her feet a little way off from where they were, letting the water pool in and the sand within to turn to mush. While she didn’t want to get her hands dirty anymore, metaphorically or physically, she was tempted to dig her hands into the waters. With a finger instead, she stirred the surface a little every time a wave filled the hole and she kept pushing the sides to make it bigger.

When she deemed it to be an appropriate size, she dipped her hand in to cup some of the sand below. She could feel the grains becoming stuck under her nails, but she decided to forget about it for the day. She poured it back slowly onto a little cove within her basin where no water rested on top to make little towers, repeating the motion until she had a few erect. One was shorter and wider, and it reminded her of Patty. There was another one that was just a little higher than the first tower, thinner but stood taller and straighter—that was Kid.

Finally, there was one that was clearly taller than the rest, but its middle dipped and curved the rest of the length. It looked like its head was hanging low and dripping sand from the top down to the ground. Though it threatened to fall, it miraculously held on by some means. If that wasn’t how she felt now…

A sand flea poked its head out of the muck, and she was surprised at its arrival. With a little water cupped in hand, she picked it up in the middle of her palms. It played dead as if she didn’t just see it swim around moment ago. She threw it back into the basin where it took the chance to burrow itself deeply, away from her, but her hand hit the tallest sand tower, collapsing it without noticing.

If only she could do that too, she thought while watching the flea disappear from sight. To hide and to bury her head into some place dark where the sun and its radiance can’t find her. She didn’t heed any more attention towards Patty or Kid, at least until it was time to return for supper.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t so much that Liz hated walks (lord knows when you’re on the streets all you _do_ is walk), it was just that Liz hated _these_ walks.

 

She used to roam constantly, aimlessly down the streets of Brooklyn, baby sister in tow, discovering new alcoves in the city’s alleyways, laughing when a (literal) street rat would poke his nose out from a garbage can when they walked by. Liz swore she knew Brooklyn better than anyone else in the city by way of getting lost every other day, but always with Patty’s pinky tucked into the crook of her own.

 

No, it was these _particular_ walks that Liz couldn’t stand. Kid insisted they accompany him on his daily walks, where he always walked the exact same path the exact same way, never deviating to the extent that Liz _swore_ there were indentions in the sidewalk from Kid’s perfectly synchronized steps. She hated the order of it all, the way her entire life had gone from a schedule of her own making to a schedule of _Kid’s_ making.

 

Worst of all was the way Patty kept one hand in the crook of Kid’s elbow, and the other dangling just out of reach.

 

So one evening, after Kid had retired to his study for the evening and Patty was sufficiently distracted with some damn thing, Liz grabbed her jacket and slipped out the front door into the cool summer night.

 

She didn’t dare stray far, that first night. She just looped around the block a few times, down some side streets in front of similarly manicured lawns and neatly aligned flower beds. Still, the aimlessness of it all was satisfying to her restless soul, so she wandered a little farther the next night. The night after that, she wandered all the way into town. Soon she was out every night, slipping out of the house after supper when it seemed as if no one was paying attention. It wasn’t that she was avoiding home necessarily. She just didn't quite like Kid enough yet to accept that she would be mooching off of his growing inheritance, and so she preferred to spend her time away from him.

 

* * *

  


He was a rail thin boy with a smooth baby face and fair skin as far as Liz could tell. Despite the weather, he was half wearing formal clothes that didn’t looked like they belonged to him; Black tie never seemed to fit the look of children, and his white dress shirt was barely wet from the rain. His hands were folded behind him and his shoulders were squared. Although he seemed to be fifteen years old, he had a power stance that Liz knew he had perfected down to his toes.

His approach was lighter than the (going away) pitter-patter of the woman in the fur coat. Liz wondered if he was trying to be quiet, but it seemed like he wanted their attention desperately. He was a little out of shape as far as she could tell, and she found out later that he had darted out of his car and ran across the street to catch the sisters before they disappeared again.

Breathing heavily, yet still resolved to hold his formal stance, he explained his proposition to them earnestly. By the middle of his little speech, the shakiness in his voice reminded even though he had a chance to breathe; was this nervousness she sensed? He double backed quickly when he realized he hadn’t given out his name.

It was Darthemeus Kedderson Jr., and it was apparently a pleasure to meet their acquaintance, or whatever.

Liz rolled her eyes, but Patty matched his introduction with more zest than he had given, reaching out to shake his hand. At her response, he seemed to relax more, smiling more naturally rather than keeping his stiff upper lip. The kid looked to Liz expectedly, and she was less than eager to follow their lead. Still, she felt Patty’s insisting eyes on her from her right, so she extended her hand just the same.

“Liz. Same surname. A pleasure.”

He rolled her name in his mouth, and then joined them together with Patty’s into a singular phrase, testing it out and smiling more when he liked the way it sounded. Before he could get too far though, he caught himself and became rigid again. His former explanation came back, and honestly, all that Liz caught was that he was rich, and that he wanted them off the streets.

And by off the streets, he meant he wanted to be their warden. Was that even legal?

Upon hearing his generosity, Patty’s eyes widened. Want radiated off her, and Liz knew that there had been little else that she’d wanted over a home to call her own. It all seemed too suspicious, too good for comfort, like a trickster was ready to pull the rug from their feet once they got too comfortable. Life had its way of doing that.

Rather than sharing her hesitation and suspicion, Patty urged her to accept, giving Liz the final decision. She shook her sister’s hands excitingly, pleading with every swing.

To rub salt on the wound, Kid gave a firm, “I’m at your service.”

It did nothing to satisfy her. “We have nothing for you.”

“But I have everything to give you both,” he responded smoothly.

“What’s the catch.”

“I’m bad at ball but I’m good with a pitch.”

Again, with the effortless jargon. The more he spoke the less inclined she was to trust him. There was a vibe that came from him that she didn’t like—he was a business man, wasn’t he? Greedy and tempting and cunning, they knew how to coat their words with sugar and to empty pockets better than a common thief. Corporate men wanted nothing else than to extract what was profitable and to eliminate what wasn’t.

So why didn’t Patty catch onto his pyramid-scheme? Instead, it seemed like she hung onto his every word and caught the honey that dripped from his tongue. She was hooked onto his fishing line, and Liz felt like she was reeling her in with every pull.

Against Liz’s silence, he repeated that he wanted to help them, no strings attached. That was all, truly. Please take his offer, he would like nothing more.

That was what truly sold Patty-- his sincerity.

They’d lost, except it didn’t really feel like a loss just yet. Liz figured it would settle in soon as she let out a rough ‘ok.’ But only because Patty still hadn’t eaten that day, and maybe also because despite the temptations, she was still the best judge of character that Liz knew.

 

* * *

  **FALL**

* * *

  


Patty came into the living room, breaking the silence. She sat herself right inbetween Liz and Kid in the middle of the couch, taking the pillows behind her and hugging it tightly in anticipation. The world had been waiting for the next launch for the moon, and they all felt that this was the time that they would finally succeed. Every house down the street was silent. Every pair of eyes and ears were trained onto the voice of the broadcaster.

This time… this time…

This wasn't the time, was it? thought Liz.

She'd been all too used to disappointment in her life, too used to the promise of the unimaginable. To suddenly be anticipating the success of the moon landing was laughable. They saw what happened the first time around, and so what was different about this one? Nothing. They were going to launch men into the sky again, they were going to fail again, and everyone was going to be moping for weeks again.

There was no such thing as a sudden change for the better.

While Kid put a reassuring hand on Patty’s shoulder, Liz left the room.

She would find out later that the launch went fine, but it didn’t matter. Next time they would try to put a man on the moon, it would inevitably fail. Luck always runs out.

 

* * *

 

She found the duck pond a few weeks ago on one of her nightly walks, and found her way back again when it was daylight. It wasn’t much, but it was a quiet, solitary place and so she brought her lunches to the rickety old bench next to the pond day after day. It was one of these days, when she found herself staring off into space picking the crusts off her sandwich and throwing them to the birds, when it happened.

 

“Miss,” the officer said behind her. “You can’t feed the ducks here.”

 

“Why not?” she blurted out before she could stop herself, and the officer rolled his eyes.

 

“We have _rules_ about that here. I guess you’re new in town?” And with that, he took a pad out of his pocket and began writing.

 

That was how Liz found herself standing before Kid that evening, a citation in her hand and a fine to pay, and _this is it_ , _this is how we get kicked out of here._

 

“I’m not angry,” Kid says, fidgeting with the rings on his fingers. “But you’re not supposed to feed the birds.”

 

She stares at him coldly, not saying a word. They stand in silence for a moment, before he speaks up again.

 

“I’ll pay it,” he said suddenly. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

 

“No,” she snapped. “It’s my responsibility.”

 

“You’re living in my house now,” he replied, “So it’s actually _my_ responsibility.”

 

The words came so quickly to her throat, to tell him off and _insist_ that she didn’t need him, but instead she swallowed and nodded. He was right. She did live here now. This was her life now, and there was nothing more she could do about it.

 

“Fine,” she whispers, willing herself to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry to be such a burden to you.”

 

And with that, she turned on her heel and left, missing his whispered insistence, “You’re not a burden, Liz.”

 

* * *

 

There it was again, that fog over her eyes that made it feel as if they were closed, yet she could see the world clearly though the lens. She handed the camera back to Kid, who told her to hold onto it for as long as she wanted. Liz warned him that she may keep it for longer than he thought, but he was undeterred, asking to see the photos that she took at the very least and to allow him to develop the photos. Before she could answer, Patty cut into the conversation, holding a leaf to Liz’s face and brightly noted the beautiful colors. They were so unlike the concrete pavement and the bricks laid out. There was only so much color that they could see while walking through Brooklyn, but the new neighborhood was vibrant with greens and abundant flora was something else to behold.

While Patty had been thriving, Liz felt otherwise. She saw the fading colors turning to brown and the wilting leaves that were ready to fall to the ground. She felt every crunch of leaves under her shoes and the sounds of nature disappearing one by one just before winter struck. There was a shift in the birds that passed through and she just couldn’t read them at all. They never stayed long enough for her to capture on film.

Along with the changing of the seasons, she rarely joined in on conversation until she's prompted and even then, she didn't know how to contribute unless it was a direct question. She was beginning to believe that she had nothing else to say, nothing interesting that anyone would want to hear. And she noticed that they were also beginning to speak to her less and less- just as she feared.

Liz had never been one to see the world as a whole, rather, she tended to focus on one thing before moving to the next target in mind. Should there be a task, whether it be hunting for food or shelter or for a place to just feel human again, she would do it. But these mundane tasks that were directionless-- she couldn't see the end to them at all.

The flashes of the camera were getting too annoying to work with, and so she turned off the setting entirely, relying solely shifting the manual setting for brightness. Throughout working with the device, Liz had learned that there was something beautiful in creating still shots. They were unchanging, unyielding, and they captured the moment that she wanted to preserve in every bit of flaws on the surface. Liz chose to photograph people at first, but found them to be too fickle, especially when she had no one to model in front of the camera. Instead, she moved onto stagnant places-- which admittingly helped her learn the area more as well.

Kid took her and her sister to too many places to keep track of. In the first few times, Kid was careful to monitor how Liz and Patty were faring-- which wasn’t very well because they felt so out of place and awful in their new scenery. They were fish out of water, attracting too much attention from other residents and looking too different in terms of fashion and mannerisms. He seemed to make note of this instantly, pulling them out of tough decisions by choosing for them and steering them towards calmer, less crowded areas.

He also discovered the girls’ window shopping habits quickly enough, taking them to thrift shops that they would particularly eye more than others and giving them a soft allowance to spend every week. This sort of generosity was rare, and Liz wondered if there was ever a catch to it. Still, he avoided the fancy shopping malls where his suits were tailored and allowed them to stick with places where they would be more comfortable. He kindly pointed out bad sales but encouraged good bargains if they saw articles of clothing that they liked.

“Build your closets,” he said to them, paying upfront with every purchase and helping them carry their new goods to the car and to the house.

The one thing that he was always careful about was their private quarters. He prepared two separate rooms for them both, and though it was off putting to separate each other, Patty was more than happy to have her own room which she took the liberty of decorating immediately with paper crafts and art pieces. She made friends with the maids and asked them to paint with her during their off hours, and she contacted the gardener to help her with a window sill flower box under both her wide set windows. When she came to Liz to ask if she’d like to do the same, Liz sighed, reminding her that flowers bloomed during the spring, not the fall. Yet the next day, Patty was outside with Paul the gardener, happily communicating about plants that could live through the winter and onto the next year.

While Patty’s room was looking warm and welcoming, Liz’s seemed barely touched. It was almost like no one was living there in the first place, taking on the feeling of a guest room rather than a resident’s. Patty and Kid did their best to present furniture and other items to hang on Liz’s walls, but outside of those efforts, there was no signs that anyone had been there. It was the way Liz decided to live. She didn’t know how long they would be staying or how stable their situation was-- not that Liz was even in the house long enough to feel like it was home. The outdoors was still much more preferable and her moments of solitude were becoming her frequented haven.

On the Thursday after the launch, disappointment still nigh, Kid decided that it would be a perfect day for an outing. He reserved three seats at Mirabelle Tavern and decided to visit a local thrift shop in the meantime to get out of the house, as if the three hadn’t already spent plenty of time away either for business or otherwise. While he didn’t choose anything for himself, he picked through a couple of hats for his chauffeur and combed through a couple of times out of habit in memory of his father. Together, the girls decided to look through the racks in hopes that they could find something warm but still seasonably stylish. It was always present in the back of their minds to follow clothing trends that they would see displayed in the windows of Brooklyn, unobtainable. Those fashions still seemed so out of reach, and Liz didn’t know how to feel about having the opportunity of wearing it herself. They were nice to look at, but she believed that it simply wasn’t her place to desire those pretty waist high pants and brightly colored tops.

Instead, she settled on a couple of shirts that seemed to fit both her and Patty, still in the mindset that she needed to provide for the both of them. Patty though was straying from the clothes and onto the shoes against the back wall.

\---

At the Mirabelle Tavern cafe, Kid order for the whole table as he usually did, but this time around, rather than feel grateful, Liz was slightly shy-- meek even-- in the room. He decided to take them to a new place, but Liz felt that the air around it was different, more elegant and serene than just a place that people could randomly walk into on a Thursday afternoon. The very fact that Kid had to make reservations proved her to be correct, and watching Patty squirm in her seat didn't sit well with Liz. He leaned against his chair unaware of their straying eyes and restlessness.

Once the food was out, she noticed that Patty relaxed slightly, seeing that her favorites like shortcake and key lime pie were there at the table for her. She let the waitress set it in front of her, smiling as she thanked them for their service while Kid nodded slightly. That separation in behavior though… There was still a world of difference between them. Any person looking at the table could tell that all three of them were out of place, one who belonged in a higher circle while the other two didn’t have a place to belong at all.

Liz took a shaky sip of rose tea, skipping over the desert since its sweet smell was making her dizzy. Though pleasing to look at from a distance, eating it would have dispelled the magic-- so she avoided it. She became stiffer as they spent time at the table, cold and quiet, answering briskly like a cold autumn wind when she was talked to.

It seemed unfair, especially after she realized that Kid hadn’t really done anything wrong, nor did he understand why she was upset in the first place. Her pettiness kept her act going though, and she continued to pick at a croissant in favor of the pecan pie that she knew he chose for her. _Notice it_ , she directed to him. _Feel bad, Kid._

At one point, he did try to pacify her mood, making a gesture to the tray of sweets and offering more in place of the piece that she didn’t want. After her refusal, he chose instead to converse with her, seeing her mouth could still move even if she weren’t chewing. It began with small talk about the beginning of their day, what he was doing at his office and small complaints about the state of affairs, which Liz found to be boring. He attempted to ask what she’d been up to herself, but she deflected the question by telling him that it was just the same as always, and that nothing had changed.

Finally, he asked, “How are the new heels? Are they comfortable?”

She looked to her shoes in question, a lovely shade of scarlet red that Patty insisted would complement her natural lip tint-- the very shade that she hid now with expensive make up that she received as gifts from friendly maids who Liz was certain were bribed by Kid to hand to her. At the time, she agreed with Patty for the sake of normalcy. Her sister was her equal, her best friend, the sole person who had stuck with her through thick and thin through the cruel world they called home. In the end, she always trusted the only solid presence in her life, and so what was there to say when Patty presented a pair of high heels, one inch thick, and looked too eager for Liz to try them on.

And now… after that question, Liz wasn’t quite sure anymore. The red was too bright for someone who always lived in the shadows. The point of the heels was everything that she’d dreamed of wearing, especially after years of fantasizing such a design on her own feet, replacing her worn out shoes that they’d found in the dumpster before. To see those fancy brands in the windows-- and now to have them on her feet? She should have been so happy…. But she just _wasn’t._

They didn’t suit her at all.

Liz felt her shoulders tense against her will. Her neck slumped over and she twiddled her thumbs together, all too aware that her nails were uneven and poorly cared for. Her hyper fixation habit was difficult to break, and she was feeling that sensory overload all over again. The irritation of polite laughing but fake intentions all around. The clinking of miniature forks and minimalist Tepco ceramic. She’d started to flinch at every bit of noise that she heard-- and worse, she was shutting down her responses and her senses.

After a particularly prolonged blink, Patty encouraged her with a “ _sissy?_ ” but Liz was too far gone at that point, too busy stopping the world from turning with her sights on the untouched cake in front of her. Her ears trained on her own quick breathing, too soft to be normal, but too loud to be dead. Perhaps if she closed her eyes again, she would be back in her solitude, back alone in the park and be alright again. Liz felt words coming out that she didn’t think of, that she didn’t mean. And while they were sharp against her table mates, she didn’t care. At least she responded somehow.

At first, she did feel slightly better, knowing that she got the upper hand at something, even if it weren't warranted during that time. It didn't last long though, dying out as quickly as it came when Kid turned to Patty instead. He spoke to her lowly, using his gentleman training which Liz was sure he could lead at his young age, while Patty whispered back just as quickly. They were huddled together, speaking solely to themselves at the corner of the square dining table. They cupped their hands over their mouths, speaking in hushed tones and quickly glanced over to Liz, then back, then towards her, then back again. _It was an inside joke, wasn't it_ , Liz thought darkly. _It was about her, wasn’t it?_

She had no proof honestly, but they were giving her too many secret glances to be brushed off as innocent and much too quiet to hear over the noise of the setting they were in. The two seemed closer than ever, but what else did Liz expect… leaving the two alone… she should have known that it was inevitable, that she'd soon be trespassing over their regular lives.

It was only in the future did she find out what they’d really said, and that it was a conversation about her welfare and whether Kid had done anything wrong-- a common question that Patty heard throughout that entire year. While Liz had always been the mediator, Patty now took on the role, explaining to Kid that he hadn’t done anything wrong, strung together in a slur of colorful slang and a cheery voice.

To Liz though, in that moment, it just seemed like Patty knew all of the right words and what to say. She was no longer the one who needed to be protected-- she was Liz’s protector. It didn’t settle right with her, not at all, and it was a great thing that Liz hadn’t eaten that afternoon or else it would have reappeared in front of her and everyone else too.

Instead of waiting around, she wanted to make the same snarky remarks that came so easily to her before. She wanted that satisfaction of seeing their widening eyes and the shock etched into their faces. Above all, she wanted to just use her voice, that large, loud, powerful voice that she knew could stop thieves dead in their tracks and start her own form of a revolution. It would be so quick-- _just say something like you always would_ \--

She didn’t.

Instead, she got up from the table, ignoring the eyes that were suddenly on her shaking body. She left her seat without grabbing the camera bag that she’d set so carefully on the table next to her, sitting dejectedly. By the time that Liz made it out of the door, she found that her small pinky toe was rubbing too closely to the sides of her shoes. Stepping to the side, she removed them cautiously, finding that those heels just weren't very good for her after all. And with them in hand, swinging back and forth, Liz set on a trail back into the woods where she could be alone.

 

* * *

**WINTER**

* * *

  


It was one of those days, wasn’t it. The ones where she didn’t want to go home. Wherever home was, it certainly wasn’t there on the road.

 

She found a strange comfort on trains during their first ride out of town with Kid. She sat across from the pair as they pointed outside of the window, and Liz followed their fingers to a more beautiful view than she had seen in awhile.

Except now, that scenery wasn’t what she was focused on. It crossed her like a blur, but she couldn’t bring herself to truly care what it was doing. She just wanted to get away… far, far away from wherever it was that she found herself now. There was no limit to where she was willing to travel, but if she never got off the train, then perhaps the clouds behind her would stop chasing.

Those dark and saddening thoughts, they followed her like thick plumes of soot. It made her mouth feel gritty, dry, and she found it difficult to breathe at times. Even more so, it was difficult to step forward. Rather than staying in her crisp, clean room all day, wasn’t it better to be on the move instead?

Liz boarded train after train. She switched lines every so often when she was feeling a little daring, but for the most part, she stayed on the same one, camped out in her seat, just letting her thoughts shroud her.

She _was_ moving forward, wasn’t she? Even if she was still sitting in one place in an empty compartment, watching everything else rush past her while she was stagnant. At least she was going places, she thought miserably. At least... at the _very_ least, she knew where she was headed on the train.

Perhaps there was an actual limit to how far she was willing to go. In the earliest moments of her travels, she made sure to always turn back on the round trip before sundown. Liz had been pushing that boundary for the last few weeks though, searching for any reason to go further. On the first night that she didn't return to the house, she felt strange, like she’d broken a rule, and in her rebellion, it was like permission to keep breaking that rule. Once she got home though, the look of worry on Patty’s face when she was greeted at the door surprised her. Even Kid had been up all night, sitting in front of the fireplace and watching her with careful eyes. But those eyes… it was like he was judging her. Liz shrank under his scrutiny and went to her room for a change of clothes, letting Patty tag along while she asked a whirlwind of interrogative questions.

As the days went on, Liz became a little braver, a little more daring with how long she was willing to stay out. After a few weeks of scattered overnight adventures, the housemates began to leave her be. That was when she rarely returned for days at a time. She went further and further out, going as far as the next state over and finding the tree tops to be familiar. There was always a couple of dollars in her coat after she'd gotten used to her travels. The allowance that Kid gave her was more than enough to take care of her needs and transportation fees, and so she donated a majority of her pocket change to beggars who paced the corridors.

Those were people who just needed an extra push to move forward too.

There were some nights when motion sickness got the best of her, and so rather than make a weary ride home or to waste money on an inn, she camped out at the station under the guise that she was waiting for a specific train, or she hiked out to find a bench under the sky. She was god-knows-where doing who-knows-what. It was like she was returning to a better time, a simpler time in the past when this was all she had to worry about and all she had to do. Often times, she would lay out on her back and count the constellations that she saw, ignoring the approach of snow clouds as she willed herself to stay warm.

 

* * *

 

She was heading home on a very brisk evening. Her scarf was loosely wrapped around her neck and she was already tugging at it to release herself from its itchy yarn. It was a gift from both Patty and Kid; they’d gotten it while she was already out on her walks, enjoying their afternoon tea together after a day of shopping and thrifting again. Maybe it was just formalities, or some form of strange courtesy, but she took it and thanked them, telling them that she’d use it next time on her outings.

But really? She hated the vibrant colors, how they hurt her eyes when she looked at the fallen snow, and she hated the clinginess of the fibers, how they left strands of lint everywhere it touched. Liz wanted nothing to do with it after two short hours of walking, and so she returned to the gallows earlier than she planned, kicking at the snow in her thin leather boots and leaving a line behind her with the trailing scarf. It was a gloomy day again, but she’d hoped to find some rare shots with the borrowed camera. There was a time when she used to like playing around with it, she was sure of it, but as of late, it lost the magic that it once held over her.

Still, she wanted to find it again, maybe hold onto it more tightly than she had in the past. To look at the world in beauty and curious eyes—she missed it.

After she arrived to the house, she was wiping off the lint on the camera lens with a careful finger when she heard a familiar string of sounds coming from behind the closed front door. It was a new song by the Isley brothers, instruments in medley with the singer’s voice. She hadn't realized that they released another one, let alone an album during the time that her new living situation was compromised.

Still, she was taken aback when memories of the past began to sneak into her heart, striking sorrow when she found that she missed those simpler times. Music truly was a gateway to the past, and unfortunately for her, it was a past that she missed dearly. Liz felt more alive, more herself back on the streets. She had no one else out there watching her back other than herself and Patty, but in a way, she never felt more safe and secure than during that time. Not even the four walls of Liz’s room provided her the comfort of finding warmth during a cold night.

And now, she felt colder than she did outside. When she turned the corner leading to the living room, the first thing that she saw was Patty and Kid, dancing merrily in circles, offbeat.

“Come on, Kiddo! Be funky, formless, and free!” she giggled, holding onto this hands as she waved them in a zig zag motion in front of them.

He was awkward with his movements and his face was full of uncertainty. It was like he was worried about following Patty correctly, but she could care less about the way he was dancing and more about the why. As Liz watched them, Kid became more relaxed and gave into her insistence. He cracked a smile and began to move in a new awkwardness. But it was his own way of dancing and his own way of having fun.

After moving a little closer to where she was hiding, Kid spotted Liz feinting a walk into the living room, careful to hide the fact that she was spying on them. His surprise alerted Patty, and she waved her sister over to join them. They still stood too close for Liz’s comfort though, knowing that their friendship meant that they were excluding her. It was just another knife twisting in her gut when she recognized that they were dancing to an artist that she liked _without_ her.

“Join in!” Patty said, leaping towards Liz to grab her hand. “Come on, come on!” But the moment that Liz pulled away was the moment that a mixed expression of shock and confusion crossed Patty’s face. She tried again, but no avail. “Sis?”

Just after Liz snatched her hand away for the second time, she finally found her words. “Dancing is a two person thing, Patty. Seems like you already found a new partner.”

The look morphed into one of horror, and before Patty or Kid could say anything else, Liz had already turned away, making a bee-line for the front door. She’d heard and seen enough of that mess. It wasn't a life that she wanted to join, and if it made her feel that much pain just to see it for a few brief seconds, then it would be best to not see it at all.

“It… it doesn't have to be,” Patty said faintly, moments before Liz slammed the door, leaving both the camera and the scarf behind.

 _Forget it_ . _It is what it is._

 

* * *

**SPRING**

* * *

 

She’d spent her time in the winter in solitude, but she truly couldn't say that any of it was enjoyable. Liz had hardly spent time by the beckoning fireplaces that burned in Kid’s living room and his personal study upstairs despite her constant yearning for something to keep her hands warm. She leeched heat from the passengers boarding the train, their hotheads making her fury rise and at her worst, their abandoned half-drunk bottles that they left for the custodians making her chest and cheeks go pink. It was all the color of anger but emptiness, a rudimentary shade of red that she was growing sick of seeing. From the rusty walls of the trains to the expensive ruby petticoats and from the consistent white noise to the white steam of the train, she desired more than just those colors that trapped her where she sat.

 

And so she left those tracks, pulled herself away from the familiar line to find a better way to live and to cope. In a way, she grew tired again, unhappy that she chose to venture so far away for so long. She wondered what would happen if she revisited a place that gave her comfort before, how different it would feel from the comfort that she sought now.

 

It was worth a try, and so after stopping by the house for a quick change of clothes and the familiar weight of a camera around her neck once again, she journeyed to the park alone where she'd lost herself so long ago.

 

She couldn’t remember when she’d last seen the color green, and yet here it was before her, as if it were beckoning her to come back to life. Liz sat at her usual bench next to the duck pond, but something was different today. Surely the leaves on the trees weren’t any greener today than usual, and yet today was as if she had never seen the color before in her life. She swung her legs gently underneath the bench, glancing out at the pond. A mother duck and a set of ducklings swam across the water, creating ripples in the reflection of the trees and sky above, and she smiled despite herself.

 

That was it. She was smiling. _Smiling._ Liz couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled. Yet something about this - the color green, the ducklings shaking their newly formed feathers, the flower gardens bursting into color around her - made her feel something other than despair for the first time she could remember.

 

She thought back to last summer, to the glass of lemonade and the first moon landing and the feel of the fan on the back of her neck that day. Patty had been laughing, the sound chiming through the open window like a familiar song, and Liz felt a pang of shame at that. Her sister had spent all this time adapting to her new environment, rather than push it away. She had made friends with the gardener, the maids, the cooks who shared the house with them. Paul had given her a special patch of her own this spring to plant in. Cynthia made banana pudding the other night for dessert, Patty’s favorite, and had slipped some extra on her plate when Kid wasn’t looking.

 

And _Kid_. Who had done nothing but welcome two dirty, broken strangers into his home, spent his small fortune on whatever he could think of that would make them smile, tried to converse with her time and time again only to be shut out, and he still hadn’t stopped trying.

 

Maybe she should give him a chance. He had, after all, given her countless chances. And her sister continued to be the best judge of character she had ever known, so maybe it was time she trusted her sister’s judgment.

 

“Sissy!”

 

Liz looked up at the familiar sound of her sister’s voice, and her eyes widened. Not a moment ago, she’d been reflecting on how badly she’d neglected Patty, and yet here she was, eyes shining and arms wide, and Liz couldn’t help it. She smiled. For the first time in what felt like years, she smiled, and she stood by the edge of the pond with her arms crossed and waited for her sister to reach her.

 

Kid followed close by, and Liz still smiled. Dangling over his arm was her favorite white jacket, over the other the faded quilt that hung over the back of the television room, and he held a wicker basket in his hands.

 

“You forgot your jacket,” Patty said as she wrapped her arms around her sister’s waist. Liz, hesitant, laid one arm around Patty’s shoulder and let her nose burrow into the younger girl’s hair.

 

“Thanks, Patty,” she replied.

 

“We brought a snack for you too.” Kid holds up the basket and nods toward it. “It’s nearly three o’clock and we thought you might be hungry.”

 

“The snack was Kid’s idea, sis,” Patty chirped. “But I remembered to get the blanket. We’re gonna have a picnic!”

 

Liz couldn’t help it, a tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it. All winter, nearly all _year_ really, she’d been fighting against this new life, against Kid’s kindness, against her own _sister,_ and even after everything they had remembered her. She took the jacket from Kid and pulled it over her shoulders, grabbed a corner of the blanket as they spread it out next to the duck pond, and marveled at the generosity of these people in her life. People always _disappoint_ you, she was so sure of it just weeks ago, but as she took a bite of the sandwich Patty handed her, she wondered if people weren’t all so bad after all.

 

* * *

  


She started taking the camera with her on walks again. This time, though, she looked for springtime behind the lens. Flowers in bloom, the ducklings by the pond, the newness and brightness of the world fascinated her, and she became determined to capture it.

 

Kid helped her get them developed, and she tacked one to the wall above her bed. Just one, for now. Soon one became another, then another, and one day Patty came into her bedroom and exclaimed aloud, “Liz your walls are so colorful!”

 

So they were.

 

* * *

  


It'd been awhile since she accepted a group outing together with Patty and Kid at an establishment, and yet she was more than comfortable with going to the Country House Restaurant in due time. To prepare, Liz accepted her personal maids’ help with her clothes who worked under the watchful eyes of her sister. They picked out a green and cream colored dress, made of thick cotton. Patty bought it on another outing earlier in the month, but she waiting until that moment to hand it over to Flora and Felica. It was a surprise to both girls who presented it to Liz in excitement. All three fawned over it, noting how it was a perfect fit, a refreshing outfit that seemed it was made just for Liz. Later, she decided, she would go to buy a feathered boa for Patty and a nice tie for Kid as a thank you.

 

They were clearly still thinking of her while she was so busy trying to forget them. They kept her in their minds and their hearts, collecting gifts and little trinkets that they piled in Kid’s study, waiting for the chance to give them to her. That moment didn't come for a while, as anyone could tell. She was always out and about until she finally decided that it was time to accept her new life. Just roughly a year later, that was how long it took for her to find a home.

 

She had no memory of the last time she felt like she truly belonged. Together with Patty, they wandered as outcasts, moving from place to place out of shame and necessity. They had a true home now, and they found it in the boy who found them-- who believed in their goodness and gave nothing but good in return. Getting to know him was proof of that; Liz supposed that Patty was right all along.

 

She began by befriending the cooks who struggled to pinpoint her tastes, giving them the praise and criticisms that they were looking for in order to cater more to her liking. As a result of her more frequent meals at the table, the butlers and maids were also given chances to get to know the person they were hearing so much about. Not only did Liz grow comfortable with giving Cynthia a wink every time she brought out banana pudding, she also began to receive extra dessert as well, heavy on the whipping cream.

 

The Country House Restaurant was a larger, more extravagant restaurant than the Mirabelle Tavern. It was grand and luxurious as it looked within the building itself; Liz was surprised at first that Kid would make reservations there, but Patty, who was all set to get and knew exactly what to order, looked eager to eat out with her completed family again. She sat down first when the waiter showed them to their table, ignoring the forms of etiquette and making the space her own. Kid followed suit as if it were already a regular thing, sitting down before the waiters could pull out his chair, and then he invited Liz to sit down as well.

 

It was a pleasant surprise to her, but she ignored the scandalized looks and the disapproval from an older woman from across the room. She felt so much more comfortable, making the space her own as she put a napkin over her lap and spreading out her utensils the way that she wanted it. If Kid were at all offended, he kept it to himself while he made sure to keep his own space tidy.

 

While they ate dinner, which Patty ordered herself, they talked about their pastimes and managed to squeeze a couple of words in about the state of affairs. They all managed to make the conversation run smoothly with a few bumps in between. While Kid and Patty shared a couple of inside jokes, Liz noticed that Patty shared just as many with her, and that there was no reason to feel upset over it. She was just as important to Patty as Kid was. Someday, she hoped to know Kid that way as well, preferably sooner rather than later. When she cracked a joke that tested the waters about his skin once again, he laughed slightly, shaking his head about how many times he’d heard it now from almost everyone in his life. He shot Liz a little look of amusement, and she beamed a little with pride that she was making steps with her new friend.

 

While Liz typically didn't like the taste of tea and champagne (it was too bitter and floral for her), she found that Kid wasn't a fan of spirits or hard liquor either. They were allowed to dislike things, and it reminded her that she didn't have to like everything about her life. With a sense of courage, she ordered a new item on the menu though, hoping to try something that she never had before. After taking a sip, she found that she wasn't used to that kinda spread of flavor, but at least she was willing to try something new.

 

They walked home that night, Patty laughing and joking the whole way. Kid smiled affectionately at her, and Liz found herself joking along with. It was the same walk they always took home, the same route, but something about this time didn’t make her feel quite so restless. The comfort of going _home,_ she realized later, but for now she enjoyed the walk, laughing with Patty and Kid, and it was enough.

 

He stopped to say goodnight to the both of them, and nearly left to retire for the night when Patty caught him by the hand and tugged him closer.

 

“Stay,” she said simply, taking Liz’ hand in her other, and so he did. The three curled into Patty’s bed, and the last thought Liz had before drifting off to sleep was surprise at how grateful she was to finally have somewhere to call home.

 

* * *

 

The couch was still threadbare, the television still grainy, but the scene before them was nothing like it had been last summer. Last summer, she waited with baited breath as man took his first steps on the moon, and she clenched her fists waiting for something to fall apart.

 

This time, Kid and Patty were on either side of her. Patty rested her head against her shoulder, clutching her right hand, and Kid held her left. Gently, gingerly, as if Liz would get up and leave again if he held too tight, but Liz was done running. Together with her family, they watched the events unfold on the screen before them, watched as the newscaster reported the disaster that awaited the Apollo 13 crew as they made their way into space. Explosions, a loss of oxygen, failures to their water supply, and more, it was almost certain that they were going to die.

And yet, with her family on either side, after everything that had happened over the past year, Liz couldn’t help but have hope. Despite their apparent odds, she thought that maybe the Apollo 13 crew might make it out alive.

 

**THE END**


End file.
